Two Weddings and a Funeral
by Faran1078
Summary: Some of Boone and Shannon's friends get married and a relative dies.
1. Cindy's Wedding

She found him tinkering with the lawn mower in the back yard. He had it upside down and was doing something to it with a wrench. He had several more sticking out of his back pocket. She watched him from the door for a minute, he so rarely did guy stuff; she wanted to enjoy the sight of it for a bit. She wondered if he had any idea what he was doing, but then again, he was good with his hands, so he probably did. She thought about just how good he was with his hands, and what he'd done with them that morning, enjoying the memory. He looked over his shoulder at her, "You know, that's more than a little distracting." Good, she thought. She closed her eyes to focus better on earlier in the day, and visualized their actions, waiting to get more of a reaction out of him. She opened her eyes to see him heading across the lawn towards her.

He pushed her up against the outside of the house and kissed her. He paused long enough to ask, "Where are Tom and Heather?"

"Heather went out and Tom's watching the store." She pulled his head towards her again.

"Come with me." He grabbed her hand and led her across the lawn, heading for the garage.

Inside he kissed her again and undid her shorts shoving them and her underwear down to her feet. He pushed her against the hood of her car and lifted her to sit on the fender just ahead of the front tire. He'd chosen her car because, being a sports car; it was lower to the ground than his. She kicked her clothes off over her shoes, and reached down and undid his jeans, sending them to the floor along with his boxers. He pulled her to the edge of the car and stepped between her legs. When they were done she leaned against him until she caught her breath. He helped her down from the car and handed her her clothes.

"You think that'll hold you 'till tonight?" he asked.

"I'd rather you held me 'till tonight." She responded coyly, laughing. "Jeeze, I sound like a cheap dime store novel."

"Why were you looking for me earlier?" he asked.

"What?" She'd momentarily forgotten that she'd been looking for him for any reason other than what they'd just done. "Oh," she remembered, "the mail came."

"Well that's certainly earth shattering news. Want to tell me why I care?" he wanted to know.

"The invitation to Cindy's wedding arrived, it's in September."

"When in September?" he asked quickly.

"Don't worry it's the weekend before Shelly's." Realizing immediately why he was worried.

He called his mother, and asked if they could stay there the night of the wedding. They could have stayed at a hotel, but her house was right there, and she probably would have been insulted if they'd come to LA for the night and not stayed at her place, although visits to her house, somehow, never turned out very well. He also asked if they could borrow her driver and her car for the evening, so they could each relax and have a few drinks if they wanted. She agreed immediately.

They left Andrew at home. Sabrina had just seen him the month before, at Boone's birthday, and Tom and Heather were more than happy to take care of him, so they felt it unnecessary to schlep him, and all his stuff, all the way into the city.

They were standing in the foyer of her house now, ready to leave. Sabrina reached forward and straightened his tie. "You never seem to manage to get this quite centred." He suffered her interference in silence, after all, she was letting them stay there, _and_ borrow her car.

"Thanks mother," he responded to her ministrations.

She looked at Shannon. The girl had her hair up, she'd done a good job with it; it looked quite nice she thought.

They turned to leave, Shannon preceding him towards the door. "Stop," he commanded. She looked back over her shoulder at him inquiringly. "It's not exactly the way I wanted, hold on a sec."

Sabrina watched amazed as he pulled the pins from Shannon's hair and stuck them in his mouth. He raked his fingers through her hair once it was loose, then expertly twisted it back up and reinserted the hair pins. "Turn around." She obeyed him immediately. "Yeah, that's the look I was going for. Perfect."

He reached down for his green bag; it was sitting on a chair by the door. Sabrina shook her head disdainfully at how incongruous the cheap canvas looked against the expensive black suit he was wearing. She knew there'd be photographers at tonight's event, she just hoped that she wouldn't see a picture of him with the ridiculous bag in next week's society rag. He caught sight of her in the mirror over the chair. "Don't worry; I'm going to leave it in the car."

At the church he looked around at the other guests while the ceremony was under way. When they'd come in, he'd said hello to David, the Carlyle Enterprises employee who was acting as coordinator for the event He'd worked with the man in the time he'd spent as Sabrina's business manager before the crash. He caught sight of a woman in the pew across from him in the most hideous purple dress. Oh my god, he thought, and, in his head, critiqued the abomination that was her attire. Shannon elbowed him in the ribs. He looked at her. What? She can't hear me, he protested silently.

No, she thought back, but _I _can, and I'm trying to listen to the ceremony. Focus, you shithead!

He turned his attention to what was happening at the front of the church. God, he'd come to hate weddings. His own was the last he'd attended, something for which he was thankful. He did have to allow that Cindy looked beautiful in her wedding dress though, but then, in his experience, most brides did.

After the ceremony they reclaimed their limo and were chauffeured the few miles to the reception.

There were paparazzi everywhere. It wasn't every day that the daughter of the head of a major studio got married. He helped her from the back of the car, as photographers snapped pictures everywhere, and they went into the hall. The evening progressed like the evenings at all weddings do, reception lines, speeches, special dances, the whole nine yards. They danced with each other as friends who'd known them only as brother and sister watched, bemused by their revised relationship. They'd been back almost a year, but it was really their first public outing as a couple. As always, their passion for each other overwhelmed them and they kissed repeatedly as they pressed themselves against each other on the dance floor. By the end of the night he'd pulled his tie halfway down and undone the top two buttons on his shirt. He was sweaty and his hair was plastered to his head, she thought he'd never looked sexier.

In the car on the way home, she reached for him. "Fuck Shan, this is my mother's car! I'll be crucified if she finds out!"

"Why would she find out? Right, Nick?" she asked the driver.

"Find out what?" He pushed the button for the privacy screen. He'd had a soft spot for the two of them ever since they'd asked for his help in deceiving Sabrina when it came to their wedding. Jesus, the woman was a bitch.

She pulled off her underwear and undid the zipper on his dress pants; he lifted his hips so she could push them down. He scooted to the edge of the seat and she shifted herself on to him, facing him on the back seat.

Nick drove around the block twice when he reached Sabrina's house, glancing at the two of them in the rear view, making sure they were done before stopping the car.

He parked the car in the driveway and got out to open the door for them. He stopped Boone, "Sir, you might want to do something about those." He pointed at Shannon's underwear hanging half out of his jacket pocket.

"Thanks," that would have been embarrassing.

They entered the house; Sabrina was still up and met them in the front hall. "How was it?"

"Good," Shannon answered shortly, just wanting to get him upstairs.

"_No,_ I mean, how was it, the details?" she looked at Boone, annoyed. "_Do _I have to wait for David's report in the morning, or _do _you think that you could possibly remember how to do your job?'

He closed his eyes briefly at her demand, "No, mother, I remember." He turned to Shannon, "I'll be up in a minute, okay hon?"

"Okay baby," She pulled him to her and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, and her hands up his back. She, once again, wanted to be sure that Sabrina had no illusions about who had won the battle for possession of him. "Don't be long." She kissed him again and glanced, with hate, and satisfaction, over his shoulder at Sabrina glaring at the two of them, and headed up the stairs.

He followed Sabrina into the den.

"Give me a rundown," she demanded.

He described everything exactly, back in full business manager mode, as he'd known she'd expect.

"What did they serve for dinner?" she wanted to know.

He tried to remember, but then recalled that he'd grabbed a menu card from the table in anticipation of her request.

He reached in his pocket for the menu card and pulled it out, Shannon's underwear fell to the floor at his feet.

Sabrina stared at the scrap of fabric on the floor, recognizing it immediately for what it was. "In _my_ car, you had sex in _my_ car on the way home? Or wait; don't tell me it was _earlier_ than that, and that the little slut wandered around for half the evening with her panties in your jacket pocket!"

The embarrassment he'd felt seconds earlier evaporated immediately. "It was bad enough when she was my sister and I had to listen to you bad mouth her, now that she's my wife I _will not_ have it. Don't you ever, _ever_ say anything like that about her again!" He was outraged.

"I'll say anything I want about my daughter." She retorted.

"You cold hearted bitch. She was never your daughter. Christ, _I'm _barely your son." He shook his head.

"If she was your sister, as you just pointed out, then I think we can conclude that she was my daughter." She was furious at what he'd just called her.

"Then tell me this, mother. When you found out the plane had gone down, did you think, "Oh my god, my son and daughter were on that flight?" Or did you think, "Damn, now I'm short a staff member. Good help's so hard to find, and Boone was the best business manager I've ever had?" He bent down to pick Shannon's underwear up off the carpet. Rising, he noticed the look of horror on Sabrina's face and wondered whether it was because of the cruelty of what he'd just said, or because he'd guessed correctly. He felt slightly sick to his stomach at the possibility that it could be the latter. He turned from the room and left her there alone.


	2. Shelly's Wedding

She stormed into the office and shoved an opened magazine under his nose. "Look, just look at this!"

He glanced down at the photograph of the two of them. "Nice picture?" he said carefully, phrasing it as a question; not sure why she seemed so annoyed.

"No, you stupid shithead! Look at the caption!" she demanded.

He looked again at the magazine, taking it from her and reading what it said beneath the picture. It started: "Boone and Shannon Carlyle arriving at the wedding of…." He realized immediately why she was so mad; she was particularly touchy when it came to being correctly identified as Shannon Rutherford. He thought it had something to do with not wanting to be associated with Sabrina. Shannon hated her with a passion; Boone knew the feeling was mutual. "Shannon, they probably did some research and found out we're married, even if not we _were_, I mean we _are_, brother and sister. It only makes sense that we'd have the same last name. Besides, I can't really be that angry, I mean it _is_ my last name."

"But it's not _mine! _Stupid fucking journalists, they don't deserve the credence of the designation." She snatched the magazine out of his hands and threw it in the trash. He hoped she'd be over it by this evening. He certainly didn't relish the thought of having to spend the entire night with her if she was still pissy.

They closed the store early and began to get ready for Shelly's wedding. He pulled the black suit from the closet for a second week in a row. "Couldn't we just skip the church part?" he asked her hopefully.

"_Do_ you want me to get your mother on the phone to tell you all the reasons why that would just be _so_ wrong?" she responded, knowing he didn't really mean it.

"No," he answered her, defeatedly.

"Besides which, you idiot, you _have_ to be there, you've pretty much planned the whole thing." She pointed out rather smugly.

The pointers that Shelly had asked him for had turned into several phone calls a day and more meetings at her house, caterers, florists; all the places he'd hoped he'd be able to avoid once he's left his mother's business behind him. He'd finally given in to the inevitable and had all but taken over. He knew there'd be details at the church that he'd obsess about if he wasn't there to oversee everything.

He looked approvingly at her in her blue dress, admiring the tight bodice and handkerchief hem. The day after Cindy's wedding they'd taken advantage of the fact that they were already in the city to go shopping specifically to find something special for her. He loved her so much more in blue than the pink she usually chose for herself. "Did you want me to do your hair?"

"Of course," she handed him a brush and turned her back to him.

He stroked the bristles through her hair and found himself leaning forward to kiss her neck. "Boone, we have to leave soon, focus you sex fiend."

"Right." He pulled away from her and tried to decide how he wanted her hair to look that night. He stuck the brush in his pocket and began experimentally to push it into various styles before picking one and shoving the pins into it that she'd had at the ready.

They met Tom and Heather downstairs minutes later. "My heavens, Boone, I'd forgotten how completely different you look in a suit." Heather looked at him appraisingly.

"Uh, thanks, I think." He said, not sure if it was a compliment or not, remembering the last time she'd seen him wear one, when she'd commented that he looked like his own corpse, something that, obviously, hit a little too close to home.

They gave final instructions to the baby sitter, and headed for the church. He left them to find seats as he went to check on things. The service went smoothly, of course, and he thought Shelly looked particularly beautiful in the dress he'd suggested to her that first night.

At the reception hall, he left them again several times during the night. She watched him as he spoke to various people contracted for the night, pointing out to a waiter an empty wine glass here, or a dropped fork there, delegating easily. She knew he'd been an excellent event co-ordinator, before Sabrina had moved him up to business manager, wanting to fast track him through the company.

She left him there, for a short time, early; Tom and Heather wanted to go, so she'd driven them home. She swapped his car for her's, Angie; the baby sitter had asked shyly if she could go for a ride in it. Shannon lowered the roof and drove the girl home. On the way, the girl had turned to her, "You guys just seem so glamorous, this car is so totally cool." She hadn't baby sat for them before _and_ it was the first time she'd been alone with Shannon, so she took advantage of the opportunity to speak her mind.

"Us?" The thought had never crossed _her_ mind, so she was positive that it hadn't ever occurred to Boone.

"Yeah, I mean just look at this car, the way you're dressed, who you are, where you come from…what happened to you." The girl was rambling, it seemed like she was reaching for something, looking for inside information.

Shannon was disturbed by the way she'd characterized them. "You're completely wrong. We own a general store. I don't think you can get less glamorous than that," she pointed out skeptically. "As for the rest of it, this is just a car, just a dress, we're just people, maybe we have money, but it doesn't make up for..." she couldn't finish that thought. "As for what happened to us, it was a tragedy, people died, it wasn't some Hollywood blockbuster where the director called cut and we went home at night." She hadn't talked about the island in a while, and found, surprisingly, that it wasn't that hard anymore. "We're no one special." Except to each other, she thought.

She dropped her off and returned to the reception about half an hour after she'd left. She found him sitting quietly at a table near the door, his feet up on a chair, an almost full wine glass in front of him, thinking to himself, "Shannon, where the fuck are you?" in a "please save me" kind of way. She hadn't told him she was leaving, he'd been busy, and she figured she'd be back before he even missed her. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be trying his best to ignore the woman sitting to his right. She kept leaning towards him trying to engage him in conversation, reaching out to touch his arm repeatedly. Shannon had already noticed the woman watching him during the evening, and figured that she must be trying to pick him up. It seemed from his attitude that she'd missed something while she'd been gone, so thought that might be it. He must have protested that he was married, that his wife was here, and then had it backfire when he couldn't find her, so the woman was still at it.

"Hey there," she broke into his misery.

He sat up and smiled at her.

"You wanna dance?" she asked him.

"Give it up, that's not going to get you anywhere," the woman interrupted, rather drunkenly, before he could answer. "I've asked him several times over the past half hour, and he just keeps saying that he only dances with his wife. If you ask me, I don't even think he has one, at least she doesn't seem to be here, and who'd let _him_ out by himself."

"I think I can persuade him." She leaned down to kiss him. "As for a wife, he has one alright, I'm her, and if you bother him again, you'll have to answer to me." She said protectively. She held her hand out to him; he took it and gratefully let her pull him towards the dance floor.

While they danced, she recounted the conversation she'd had with Angie in her car on the way back. "Glamorous?" he shook his head, "No, I don't think so. Tired, almost ready to go home, yes, but definitely not glamorous."

They danced like they were in high school. Their arms slung low around each other's waists, rocking gently side to side. He nuzzled against her neck, breathing in her scent, his duties for the evening over with and forgotten.

"Take me home, Shan," he asked eventually.


	3. Bella's Funeral

"Boone?" he looked up, she was standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"What about my Aunt Bella?" he asked, picking up the name from her, but nothing else.

She came over to where he sat at the desk, "She's…. she…there was an accident…"

"What happened?" he pulled her to sit in his lap. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"She's dead, Boone." She said softly. "That was your mother on the phone. There was a drunk driver; she died instantly. I'm sorry, honey."

He stared off into space for a minute, picturing Bella in his head. They'd last seen her almost a year ago; at a party Sabrina had thrown to celebrate their rescue. The party hadn't turned out well, they'd been pressured by everyone to recount stories of the island, but it was still too soon for them to be able to deal with it calmly. They'd ended up sitting together quietly in the house, hiding from everyone. Shannon in tears, Boone not far from them either. His Aunt had been one of the guests. Bella Hamilton had been his father's sister, a vivacious blonde woman in her late 40's.

"When's the funeral?" he asked her, feeling the tears welling in his eyes.

"This Saturday." She answered quietly; a tear tracing it's way down her cheek.

"We're not staying at my mother's house." He said definitely.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, "I know what happened that night, you know."

"What? I've never said anything to you." He knew immediately that she was referring to the night of Cindy's wedding.

"No, I know you haven't, but you've thought about it a few times." She ran her fingers through his hair.

He'd come upstairs that night, distracted, obviously with something on his mind. She'd asked him if he wanted to talk about it, but he'd said no.

"Stay out of my head, Shan." He warned.

"Do you want me to stop breathing too?" still crying, she thought about the absurdity of his request.

"No, of course not, I'm sorry, I'm an idiot." He laughed when he realized how impossible it would have been for her to do what he'd just asked. "But when I say I don't want to talk about something, I mean it, and I don't expect you to resort to other methods to find out what it is."

"I'm sorry, and I'm sorry you're an idiot too." She laughed quietly back at him, turning his words against him, slightly ashamed of herself that she'd violated his privacy. "She was wrong, you know."

He was still thinking about Bella and didn't understand what she meant. "Who was wrong about what?"

"What she said about me, your mother," she supplied.

"I know that." Off course he knew she was wrong.

"I think I was just lashing out, trying to cope with everything. My mom, my dad, both dead, trapped in a house with a brother who loved me too much and a mother who didn't love me at all. But I appreciate that you stood up for me." She kissed him. She didn't want to talk about the rest of what had been said that night, also guessing that Boone had inadvertently been correct about Sabrina's reaction on hearing about the crash.

"You're my wife, my sister, of course I stood up for you. She's just a bitch." He wiped away the remnants of her tears. "God, I can't believe she's gone. I know we weren't particularly close, but I remember my dad and my Uncle Will and her doing all kinds of crazy things when I was a kid, before my dad died."

"We've been through a lot, haven't we?" she mused, "so much loss, so much pain."

"It certainly seems like we've had more than our share. Shit, I'm barely 24!" he though about how unfair life could be, how much older than his years he felt.

"Take me upstairs, Boone, please?" she suddenly needed to feel him, touch him, she needed to feel alive.

That Saturday, he pulled his black suit out of the closet yet again. He was getting so sick of wearing it, so much more used to everyday dress of jeans and t-shirts than the business attire he used to wear. They were going into the city early; Shannon didn't have anything appropriate to wear to a funeral, so they needed to pick something up before the service. He'd agreed to change at his mother's house, but nothing more. They were coming back home directly after the wake.

She drove; he was in the middle of a particularly interesting book and wanted to use the travel time to read a few more chapters. They didn't see the point in bringing Andrew to the funeral, so the two-seater car wasn't an obstacle. It was a beautiful day, so she'd lowered the convertible roof.

Reaching the city, she drove into a parking lot near one of her favourite stores. "Come," she commanded him, getting out of the car.

"Right…" he responded distractedly, not making a move to get out of the car, he kept his head bent over his book.

"Boone, _now!_" she crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Uh…sorry," He marked his place, and quickly got out of the car to follow her.

In the store she selected a few black dresses and disappeared into the change room to try them on. He sat quietly next to some other poor guy who'd obviously also been dragged out shopping as well, and was waiting for his girlfriend. "You too huh?" the guy asked in sympathy.

"Yeah," He shook his head, hoping Shannon wasn't watching. He'd catch shit for sure if she knew how much he didn't want to be there, he hid his thoughts carefully from her.

"Boone," he heard her voice from the dressing room area.

"Yeah, hon." He stood and moved to the entrance to the back.

"I need you to do up this zipper," she stuck her head out of one of the dressing rooms, beckoning him.

"Oh God," he groaned quietly to himself, moving down the aisle to help her.

He entered the dressing room and stood behind her. "Shan, this dress doesn't have a zipper."

"I know that, you idiot." She turned to face him and moved to undo the zipper on his jeans.

"No, no fucking way, we are _not _going to have sex in a dressing room, and, may I remind you that we're on our way to a funeral!" Her audacity never ceased to amaze and excite him.

"Keep your voice down, for Christ's sake." She shoved his pants to his ankles. "You can't tell me you've never done this before."

"Yeah, _I can_, 'cause I haven't." he lifted the dress up over her waist, he already knew that he wasn't going to be able to resist her, he never could. She'd already taken her underwear off.

He pushed her against the back wall as she slid her arms over his shoulders and lifted her legs to circle his waist. She dug her fingers into his hair. "Oh God, Boone, Boone I love you." She panted quietly against his neck.

He exited the dressing room minutes later. The guy he'd been sitting beside earlier was still there. "Nice one, man. I've always wanted to do that."

"What?" he pretended innocence, and flushed bright red in embarrassment.

"Sex in a dressing room, right on," the guy smiled at him.

"What? How did you know?" he grinned sheepishly. Hoping no one else had figured it out.

"It's only 'cause I've been sitting with you. I'm sure no one else knows." The guy reassured him.

Shannon came out with the dresses over her arm. She held one out to him; it was the one she'd just been wearing. "I'm getting this one, pay for it." She turned and went to hand the rejects to one of the sales staff.

He looked down at the guy, wanting for some unknown reason to throw a curve ball into his day. He wondered idly just how much of an influence her wild streak was having on him. "My sister's always making me pay for her clothes." While it was true, there was more to it than that, though the poor man had no way of knowing that. The guy looked back, now horrified at what he'd known they'd done in the dressing room.

When he told her, in the car, what he'd done, she laughed at him. "You're picking up bad habits from me."

They changed at Sabrina's house as they'd planned. The funeral was a small, subdued affair. He looked at his Aunt lying peacefully in her casket, far too young to have died. He wrapped his arm around Shannon, as she cried quietly. Bella had been one of his few relatives that she'd actually liked. Sabrina looked distastefully at the body of her former sister-in-law, thinking about the work she wasn't getting done because of her obligation to be there.

Will had, as usual, far too much to drink at his sister's wake. They were sitting quietly on a couch, talking to one of his cousins when they heard the raised voices.

"She was not!" they heard Will say loudly.

Someone must have answered him because the next thing they heard him say was "Fuck you." They looked over to see him throwing a punch at a man dressed, not surprisingly, in a black suit.

"Oh, God," Boone stood, moving to help stop the fight. "This sure puts the fun in funeral. But then I guess it's not a funeral 'till there's a fist fight, or is that just my family?"


End file.
